All's Fair in Love and War
by KricketWilliams
Summary: During mandatory training, two couples soon find that they are fighting for more than just bragging rights. JJ/Hotch, Rossi/Strauss. As usual, I don't own a thing.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Here is a little jaunt off my usual pairing to a couple of couples that are really fun to write, too... Kick back and enjoy and see how the other halves live (hee hee)...

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**Chapter 1**

The entire team converged in the conference room, awaiting an update from Garcia regarding mandatory in-services they needed to attend. Each year, profilers had training in multiple areas—gun safety, first aid, and CPR to name a few—to keep them refreshed and current. Everyone on the team, sans Garcia, was required to attend. In this case, she acted as a secretary and was responsible for scheduling the team's outings and times.

The FBI did this in a rather interesting way. They partnered teams that competed against one another, handicapping certain teams as appropriate, and encouraging friendly competition within the teams themselves. This made the standardized testing far more interesting. The reward was bragging rights only, but that was enough for somewhat prideful agents.

"It's that time again," Garcia announced cheerfully as she entered the doorway, a flash of color and brightness in a government-gray room. "So, my steadfast heroes and heroine, who is pairing up with whom? I know you all usually do the same pairs..." She looked down at her iPad and then up at everyone, biting her fuchsia-colored lower lip. "This year is a little different than last year..."

Penelope didn't say the words—that Prentiss was gone. Instead, it seemed that she just let her words drift off as softly and unobtrusively as she could. Emily would've wanted it that way. It had been her decision to leave this time; they didn't need to mourn her.

"I am going to ask that everyone pair up with someone different than the last few years," Hotch stated, looking at everyone in the group. "JJ lost her usual partner with Prentiss leaving. I will partner with her this year—" he paused on JJ and arched a brow "—if that is agreeable with you?"

She blinked for a few seconds in obvious shock. "That's fine. I'm...pleasantly surprised, but...it's fine."

Rossi chuckled. "What, Aaron? Are you sick of me beating you in marksmanship?"

Hotch shot Rossi a wry grin. "No, I'm sick of you putting the moves on the Resucci-Annie."

"Ah...I thought only Morgan did that?" Reid asked with a not-so-innocent smirk.

"That's it, Pretty Boy, you're goin' down," Morgan threatened and then looked over at Garcia. "Baby Girl, put me and the runt on a team together."

"Sure thing, lover," she remarked with a grin. She tapped a few things into her pad. "Let's see...I've got Hotch and JJ, my boy genius and my baby boy—ooh! Boy Squared, like Duran Duran!—and..." She glanced up sadly at Rossi. "Aww, Super Agent, I think that leaves you alone."

"Don't worry, kitten," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I think I will opt out of all this nonsense and go _challenge_ myself to some fine brandy and cigars."

Garcia looked over at Hotch and winced sheepishly...which seemed to be an odd reaction, as far as Dave thought.

"Maybe afterward," Hotch said, drawing his attention. "You do need to participate...and you have a partner."

Dave chuckled and then really focused on Hotch. In that flash of a moment, his chuckle was gone. "Pray tell...who am I partnering with?"

The look on Hotch's face was flat and stoic, but Dave sensed something just slightly recalcitrant, like he'd done something wrong.

_Oh, no..._

Dave started to shake his head slowly in dismay. "Oh, Aaron...you didn't."

"We'll talk in a second," Hotch replied under his breath, giving him a look that asked for patience and understanding. He looked over at Penelope. "Garcia, please inform HR of the team we discussed and the ones formed here."

"Yes, sir," she said. She mouthed, "_I'm __sorry,"_ to Rossi before hightailing it out of the room.

Hotch addressed the rest of the group. "The rest of you may be excused."

Profilers scattered like fallen leaves on a blustery autumn day, nearly tripping over each other to escape the uproar they knew was going to happen. Spencer Reid, genius that he was, shut the door as he left.

"If you'll listen for a moment, you will see it really makes the most sense," Hotch began to explain, but Dave really didn't want to hear it. He was a patient man—well, not really—but this would make Saint Dominic curse!

"The hell it does!"

"Dave—"

"You put me with THAT woman!" he snarled. "I can't be around THAT woman for more than ten minutes without wanting to twist that string of pearls she wears and choke her!"

"Dave, I know you and Erin have a history, but even you have to admit she's changed—"

His heart twitched in his chest. She hadn't changed enough for either of them to be willing to take a chance on each other. He'd left her bed, and she was as cold as always...

Covering his heartache with sarcasm, he barked a nasty laugh. "For you, maybe. For me, she's just the same ol' bitch on wheels she's always been."

Hotch pulled a mild but disbelieving face. "You don't really believe that anymore."

He crossed his arms over his chest, knowing he looked somewhat like a petulant five year old, but he didn't really care. "Yes, I do."

Hotch twisted his lips to the side in a look that bespoke irony. "And yet you just slept with her..."

_Oh...low__ blow!_ He glared at Hotch incredulously. "That was a mistake, and you have no right to bring up my sex life."

Actually, once that door was shut, Dave knew damn well that he and Hotch had an open door policy. They were old friends who spoke honestly and plainly no matter what. That's what maintained their friendship that had that stood stronger than any other he'd ever had.

One dark brow arched on his best friend's face. "We're not talking about propriety, are we?"

Dave sat back in his chair, crossing his ankle over his knee in an effort to relax. That was nearly impossible; irritation was steamrolling over him. Christ, this was a pickle. He didn't want to fight with Hotch, but to pair him with Erin? That was beyond cruel and unusual punishment.

"Dave...I'm sorry for my commentary," Hotch began apologetically after a moment when they'd both cooled down. "That was uncalled for. I don't want to put you in a situation, but I have no choice in the matter."

His grin was sardonic. "Erin requested me?"

That made Hotch's lips quiver with a smirk. "No...I would say she has about as much animosity for you that you have for her."

"Well, then, it's settled," Dave said, uncrossing his legs as if he were going to leave.

"Dave, like any other profiler, Erin is required to complete field testing. This year, since we are short a member, we were volunteered to assist with that testing," he explained.

"Yippee," he said flatly.

Ignoring his sarcasm, Hotch continued, "I was told I can't partner with her; she is my direct superior and will judge my performance for evals."

Inwardly, Dave grimaced. He knew what was coming next.

"You are the only one on the team who is near the same level in ranking as Erin. It would be awkward and uncomfortable to ask one of the other profilers to judge her."

_Shit._

Dave ran a hand over his face, sighing heavily, and then shot Hotch the hairy eyeball. "You owe me a bottle of twelve year Scotch for this."

Hotch smiled and then reached by his foot to put the already procured bottle of whiskey on the table...

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AN2: NOMINATIONS HAVE STARTED FOR PROFILER'S CHOICE CRIMINAL MINDS FANFIC AWARDS!

Calling all CM readers and authors! Join us for our third annual Profiler's Choice CM Awards on Fanfiction dot net! Help us choose the best of the best of the CM stories on ff dot net, and let your voice be heard. Please check out the nomination ballot and rules at Chit Chat on Author's Corner Forum. All rules and information are on the forum.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews, everyone. I hope you enjoy the next chapter! Let me know... how am I doing with everyone? Although I am a M/G girl, I love all the CM characters (Yes, even Erin Strauss!) and I want to do them justice.

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**Chapter 2**

When JJ arrived at the FBI training field the next morning, Aaron Hotchner was already there. Clad in a black tank top and dark blue FBI-issue shorts, the relaxed, dark-haired man leaning against the bleachers holding a cup of coffee hardly looked like her boss.

"Morning," she said as she jogged to the bleachers, her blonde ponytail bouncing with her steps. It was very early in the morning, the sun was barely peaking over High Ridge, and she was freezing in her T-shirt and sweatpants. She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her palms over her forearms.

Ever observant, Hotch handed her a cup from the local coffee shop. "Here. This will warm you up."

The cup was good, plain coffee, and it did warm her up almost immediately. "Thanks," she replied. "I didn't have time to stop. I had to get Henry to Betsy's place…"

"I understand."

Hotch would understand. He'd been in her situation for a while now—a single parent, doing both parenting duties for a long period of time. She'd only had to do it for a little over two months now, and it sucked…royally.

JJ sighed sadly. She was yet another statistic in BAU marriages ending badly—only hers barely lasted long enough to be called a marriage.

Shaking her head to rid herself of the maudlin thoughts, she smiled brightly. "So…what are we starting with?"

Taking a slip of paper he'd folded neatly out of his pocket, he unfolded it and read the listing of items. "I thought we'd start with the five-mile run."

"Getting the easy thing out of the way, huh?" she teased with a grin. "That thing is cake."

Hotch grinned back at her. "Life's too short… Let's start with dessert."

"You're on, Hotchner," JJ said, sticking her foot out in front of herself and bending to stretch her hamstrings.

Hotch was nearby, balancing with his knee bent and his ankle in his hand.

"Did you see anyone else in the parking lot?" Aaron asked, switching to the other leg.

"Not a soul," JJ replied, switching legs, too. "Just some sleepy-looking robins."

Aaron frowned for a moment in thought. "I think six might have been a little early."

JJ chuckled. "You don't say…"

"I'm a morning person," he said with a sigh as he bent over to stretch his hamstrings.

Gripping her ankle in the quad stretch, JJ asked, "Is Beth an AM sort of gal?"

"No…she wasn't."

Oh no. Something was off. Most people wouldn't have caught the nuance in Hotch's voice, but JJ knew Hotch well. The way he'd said the words, a slight pause in between, caused her to worry.

She glanced up at Hotch, who was finishing stretching his other quad. He looked at her and then quirked an oddly uncomfortable grin. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

His expression was blank, which was even more suspicious to JJ. "Of course."

JJ didn't buy that for a second, but she didn't push. "Okay…but I'm a good ear if you need one."

"Thanks," he said, again looking vaguely uncomfortable, and then he changed the subject. "Ready to run?"

JJ sighed and stretched her arms over her head in a deceptively languid fashion. "Race ya!" she called a second later and then left him in the dust.

* * *

"You're late."

Dave snorted as he strolled leisurely over to Erin Strauss, took a big sip of coffee, yawned, and then said with a devil-may-care tone, "You got me."

Erin rolled her eyes. What on Earth had she ever seen in David Rossi? The man was annoying, despicable, brash, hard-headed…

Just then, he took a seat across from her in the FBI classroom and shot her a smile, and criticism rolled away like the boulder in front of a tomb. There was a sparkle in those espresso eyes, and those firm, sensual lips of his spoke of promises.

And his goatee tickled just the right way….

Before she began to wax poetic about him—the thought made her want to gag—she berated him instead. "I am not wasting my valuable time out here, Agent Rossi. I have—"

"What kind of coffee is in that cup of yours?"

The question was so off the wall, it made her respond. "Colombian. Why?"

"From where?"

Her jaw ticked with irritation. "When I filled my car up with gas, I stopped in and got a cup."

He looked appalled. "_Gas station_ coffee?"

If it were possible, she sat even more ramrod stiff in her seat. "It's good coffee."

"Bullshit," he replied. "It's awful, and you know it."

She raised her chin. "Movin' Mojo was rated the number one convenience store coffee in the Quantico area."

"Second only to dirt in a cup," he added with a smirk, "with a dash of bitter manure for extra flavor."

She narrowed her icy blue eyes before chuckling nastily and slamming her book shut. "That's it. This is simply not going to work. I will tell Aaron that we tried—"

"You didn't even let me tell you why I asked you that."

Oh, how she wished she could stand up and tell him she didn't give a rip about why he was asking that. She really did. She wished she could say she didn't care and then stand up and leave the room…maybe whacking him in the head with her book on the way out?

She sighed sadly. Whacking him was not going to happen—she was above such things—and neither was telling him she didn't care. Because for some damned awful reason, David Rossi got under her skin.

"Okay. You have two minutes before I am gone," she threatened. "Explain."

She thought he looked like he was ready to respond something else, like _Ask me __nicely,_ or _We both know you're not leaving, Erin_. She was actually ready to respond to such a retort…but he shocked her.

He simply answered her.

"Erin, you partake in far too little of the joys in life," he said quietly. "Simple, honest pleasures, like good coffee, sleeping late…regular sex with an excellent lover…"

Her cheeks flamed, despite her wish for them to remain pale. Only Rossi could make her blush—and blush everywhere.

"Things that give you great pleasure," he continued.

"Just because I lack your hedonistic lifestyle does not mean I don't experience great pleasure," she replied.

He shook his head and made _tsking_ sounds.

"What?" she snapped.

"Sweetheart…" he drawled, tapping her portable mug with his long, swarthy, talented fingers, "your coffee doesn't lie."

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you saying—"

"I'm not saying anything," he said, sitting back in his chair again. "I just realized that about you…and it made me thoughtful. You should have those pleasures."

She snorted with laughter. "And I suppose you are the man to give them to me?"

He met her surprised look with a thoughtful one of his own...


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! Here comes the next chapter... Sparks are going to start flying all over the place..._

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**Chapter 3**

The sound of new gravel being crunched under their feet permeated the air as Hotch and JJ jogged along the streets surrounding the FBI complex. It was still early and quiet, the only other sound being birds chirping happily. It was Aaron's favorite time of the day. The quiet lent itself to inward thought and reflection, running in companionable silence. He wondered if Jack was rising yet and if he could smell the waffles Jessica had said she was going to make for him. He wondered about his other team mates, in particular if Dave and Erin were getting along, and if everyone was completing the tasks they had scheduled. He normally didn't get a chance to be too reflective; he lacked the time.

He thought about his recent relationship. He'd been running with Beth often, and she'd chatted nonstop, a bright ball of energy and light. At first, that had attracted him greatly. He'd been rather low key since Haley had passed, and a person like Beth had seemed to be just what he needed. She'd reminded him of Garcia in a lot of ways, sans outrageous clothing and computer knowledge, and he loved Penelope, although he'd never wanted to date her. She was fun, outgoing, and gregarious. But after a short while, Beth's personality had started to wear on him. Six months into the relationship, things had changed for him. Her constant chatter had started to seem inane, and her driving need to go out and do things had worn on his introverted personality and homebody nature.

Quite frankly, she exhausted him mentally...and left him unfulfilled physically.

He couldn't help but compare and think it was a pleasurable but different experience running with JJ. She didn't seem to feel the need to fill all the dead spaces; she was content to just _be_. In the office and out here, she was happy to just enjoy nature and the comfort of simply having someone nearby. The peaceful smile on her beautiful face as they ran proved that she was enjoying herself. Being a single mom, she had to fire on all cylinders, answer a million questions, and entertain her son often; the relative solitude probably was as relaxing to her as it was him.

She didn't push, either, like some other women did. He knew JJ was concerned about him and had figured out he'd ended his relationship, but she wasn't the kind of person that pried and begged to hear information. She waited in good time with infinite patience.

That patience was about to pay off because, to tell the truth, Aaron needed a friend. He needed someone who understood how breaking up really felt. He'd talked to Dave, the self-proclaimed break-up king, but Rossi could be pushy. He also had a different view on relationships and women in general. He could still see the swarthy face of his best friend grinning as he chomped down on the cigar he'd been smoking and swirled his Scotch in his glass. "The best way to get over a woman is to _get over_ another one. Cowboy mentality," Dave had said. "You fall off that horse, you dust yourself off and climb back on."

Aaron didn't take that rather absurd advice to heart. He was cautious; he needed to analyze what had happened so he could prevent future mistakes. He did want a successful, long-term relationship eventually. So, staying true to his nature, he was introspective about it, but he wasn't as successful as he wished to be. Lately, he'd doubted seriously if a true relationship for him could ever happen.

He did need to talk to someone, and perhaps JJ would be perfect to ask? They _were_ friends, inside and out of work. Not as close as he was with Dave, but they'd had play-dates with their kids, and they'd talked about things outside of work often. She was a good person, a good soul. He just didn't discuss emotional matters with many people. Letting his thoughts digest, he slowly and cautiously started opening up.

"We weren't compatible," he said, jogging for a few steps alongside her. A few more steps, he concluded, "Beth and me."

At first, he wondered if she'd heard him, but then she answered, "I see."

JJ was a woman of few words herself. Were he to say something like that to Beth about another woman, she would have launched into a tirade of excuses about what was wrong with those other women and what their faults were. That wasn't helpful. It led to false security and ego. He didn't need ego-stroking, and he didn't need excuses. He needed a good ear and a friend that let him speak.

He took a breath, putting to words the silent fear he had nagging at him. "I can't blame the job this time. She was FBI—she understood my schedule."

"You're right; you can't." They jogged awhile before she added, "But that doesn't mean it was your fault...or that you will fail again."

Spoken in a sincere tone, the words she said were exactly what he'd needed to hear. It was balm to his soul.

He took a deep breath, padded along a few more meters. "You think I should try again."

It was a statement, not a question.

JJ shot him a grin, a warm one. "When you're ready."

They were nearly half done with the first half of the run, and JJ showed no sign of slowing down. She was steady, methodical, and paced well, exactly what was needed in the running game. Watching her made him proud to have her on his team. She was so easy on the eyes. A fine sheen of sweat coated her face, but it didn't detract from how lovely she was. In fact, she nearly glowed with health and vitality.

At that particular moment, an unbidden thought came into his head, one that he couldn't control. It shocked him to the point he missed a step and stumbled. That thought?

_This is how she looks in bed..._

* * *

He was fucking crazy, that's what he was, Dave thought about himself as he watched the sarcastic look in Erin's ice blue eyes widen to shock. He understood the feeling; he felt the same way as she looked. He couldn't believe he seriously thought he was the one to show Strauss how to experience pleasure.

But once the idea bloomed in his head, it wouldn't die. Instead, it took root and flourished, and it made him reevaluate his thinking on them. His ice queen had staid, set-in-stone ways. It was like she had too much starch in her shorts. That irritation would cause anyone to be aloof at times. Add to that Erin's innate distrust of men in general and need to control every and all situations, and it was a recipe for love-life disaster.

She needed to learn to let loose, to enjoy what life had to offer, and who better to show her than someone who would benefit from her loosened lifestyle? Maybe this would open the door to new things for them.

All sorts of possibilities rolled through his mind, delicious scenarios he wanted to take her to. He pictured her feeding him grapes, or—even better—kneeling at his feet, a simpering smile on her lips, calling him her pleasure master...

She smiled at him, a frigid, taut smile. "You can't be serious."

He arched a brow.

"You have to be joking," she said, clicking her tongue. When he didn't answer, her smile faded, and she gasped. "You're _not_ joking?"

He shrugged. "'Fraid not."

Suddenly, her body jerked, and then it jerked again. Soon, she was guffawing in the most God-awful fashion Dave had ever heard. She was laughing so hard, tears were streaming down her face. Daintily, she removed a tissue from her purse—yet another pleasure-less item; she should have linen handkerchiefs—and dabbed at her eyes. She continued to laugh for a few minutes while Dave sat stonily. She calmed and then looked at him again, and a new round of laughter began.

"Erin."

"Oh...oh, dear..." she said, wiping the tears of mirth from her cheeks. "That's classic!"

Dave's expression was still stoic.

"David...we hate each other," she said in a reasonable ton. She gathered her breath and was still smiling as she spoke.

"Not always…" he said in a leading tone so she knew exactly what he was talking about. He buffed his nails on his shirt. _Score one point for David Rossi._

Her smile froze as the antifreeze must've left her bloodstream. "We can't be in the same room together without snapping at each other."

He looked at his nails. "Or hopping in the sack together."

She glared at him. "I appreciate the laughter; I enjoyed your humor."

"I'm the perfect candidate for this, Erin."

"Laughing at you is the only pleasure I experience when it comes to you."

He shot her a glance, his ire rising and making him crude. "That's not what the claw marks you left on my back tell me."

She gasped in outrage. "That was a mistake!"

"Maybe so, but what you said about me and pleasure...that was _certainly_ a mistake," he said. "I'd like a chance to prove it."

She scoffed. "This is absolutely absurd."

Now the challenge was out there. All tender thoughts of a relationship and—he almost broke out in a cold sweat—love were out the door. Instead, like always with Erin, he was ready to prove something. He didn't give a flying fuck about emotions—this was war.

"Would you rather test out on things you already know, wasting both our times," he started as he stood across from her and then leaned down to brace his hands on the edge of her classroom desk, "or would you give me a chance to show you some things you've been missing?"

He wasn't lying. He'd _written_ the profiler proficiency testing they had to do; he sure as hell didn't need an overview. And Erin didn't need the field training, either.

"It's not right. We can't—"

"Come on, Erin...live a little," he prodded, playing devil's advocate.

_Ah! Jackpot!_ She didn't answer immediately; she was pondering it. A thrill ran down his spine at the thought of being with her again. The thrill of victory...

He couldn't lie to himself like that, but he wasn't the only one affected. Her pupils were dilated, and her breathing was unsteady. He couldn't take that away from her; she was beautifully responsive.

"David...this is insane," she said, and by the hesitation in her voice, the way she looked away from his gaze, he knew he was winning.

"One thing, _cara_," he said softly, cupping her cheek in his hand to make her look at him. "Let me show you one thing right now...and if you don't like it, we can do the testing."

He was stroking her cheek with his thumb, and lazily, he dropped his gaze and his thumb to her plush bottom lip. For a moment, he let himself drift as he watched her. It was a sin, really, a goddamned sin. A mouth as lethal as hers shouldn't taste so sweet...

_Snap out of it, Dave,_ he told himself. _Get back in the game..._

"How about it, Erin?" he asked, his voice husky even to his own ears. "Are you ready for this?"

She met his eyes again, and slowly, she nodded.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews everyone!... Here we go...

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**Chapter 4**

Standing stiffly, her arms plastered to her sides and her hands fisted, Erin wore a tight-lipped expression and bloody murder in her eyes. She was going to kill David Rossi. Point blank. And she'd heard enough serial killer stories that she could hide the body and not get caught.

He, boorish ass that he was, was smirking, nearly chuckling with glee as he stood waiting for a beverage at the very crowded Mean Green Coffee Bean Shop. No, he hadn't kissed her. Moments before, he'd leaned in and bewitched her with his pure, animal magnetism...

Too bad that animal was a skunk.

She'd barely gotten in a perceptible nod, when he'd leaned back and proclaimed, "Good! Let's go."

He'd stood, leaving her sitting, dazed and bewildered. "Go?"

"Yes. My coffee is nearly empty, and yours is undrinkable. Come on," he'd commanded. A second later, he'd taken her hands and wrenched her to her feet, and soon after, they'd ended up where they were now, waiting in a very long line.

"This is hardly pleasurable, David," she snipped, still a dash irked.

"Trust me."

She glared at him, her eyes wide with dismay. "Trust you? I'd rather trust Satan."

He smirked at her. "You don't mean that."

She shot him her frostiest, haughtiest look. "At least I know what I am in for with Satan."

He chuckled then. "Don't get your pretty panties in a twist, Erin. There'll be kissing later."

She scoffed, instantly affronted. "That isn't why I am upset."

He didn't bother commenting. That was even worse than if he did comment. He recognized the words as a lie as much as she did and didn't even feel the need to argue them.

Damn.

God help her, she did want to kiss him. Badly. Kissing David Rossi was one of the premiere pleasures in life. In fact, all the pleasures he'd talked about...she wanted to experience them. Sadly, what he'd said about her was true. She had a staid, responsible life void of a lot of passionate pursuits. It wasn't in her nature to go toward hedonism. However, even if she had a nature that was hedonistic, there wasn't a time in her life that she could indulge it. She'd been a mother and a career woman for most of her adult life. She was too busy gnawing and scratching her way to the top to pamper her personal side.

"Wait. That was wrong." He said that comment out of nowhere, gratefully ignoring her last statement to her ever loving surprise, only to add, "Come to think of it, you don't own pretty panties—do you, Erin?"

Because they were packed in like sardines in a can, he'd said that loud enough the person in front of them turned to look. She could feel her cheeks, neck, and ears heating with an uncontrollable blush.

"Please keep the volume of your voice down!" she hissed under her breath. Before she could stop herself, she shot back, "And you haven't seen enough of my panties to know what I do or do not own."

_Shut up, Erin!_ she chastised herself. _Do not give that man ammunition!_

Hesitantly, she looked over at him, only to feel her heart race at the look in his eyes.

"Oh, really?" he drawled.

_Too late!_

He leaned closer to her, his warm breath near her ear. "What are you wearing right now, Erin? A sweet, lacy bikini that makes a man want to remove it with his teeth?" he asked in a low voice that sent shivers down her spine. "Or a thong that begs a man—at least _this_ man—to kiss each one of the cheeks it separates?"

A wash of wetness pooled in her serviceable cotton panties at his dirty talk. For the first time in her life, she wished she was wearing those panties he described...if only to rile him up, of course.

"Or even better," he growled, the words vibrating all the way to her nether regions, "no panties at all..."

Before she could respond, he pulled her in front of him, his strong arm wrapped around her waist. "Then I could move this"—he tugged her beige business suit skirt roughly—"discretely...so no one would see."

"You don't like...exhibition?" she asked, disliking the pant in her voice.

"No."

"Really?" she said, trying desperately to regain some of her composure. She snorted. "I thought you were more depraved than that. The kind that would like to put on a show."

"I don't like to share," he growled, wrapping an arm tighter around her—so tight, a credit card wouldn't fit between them.

A thrill ran through her at his possessive tone. He didn't want to share _her_ with anyone?

Before she could use that to her advantage, he chuckled low, a wicked little laugh, and continued. "Oh, yes, I can see it now...I'd slide that skirt up and lower my hand...slowly, not to draw attention...and then I'd touch you where you need touching the most...where it's hotter and wetter and far, far sweeter than any cup of espresso we're going to get." His voice held a husky, dark quality that mesmerized her. "Right there, right now...and no one would know but us."

_Oh, yes..._

Despite her wishes to remain immune, she shuddered at his words. She wanted that. Never in her fifty-three years of being had she thought of doing something that wicked in the middle of public. She couldn't believe she was thinking about it now. Maybe in her twenties, or even thirties, this could've been an option, but now...

"Of course, _you_ are probably wearing white cotton panties, so it's a moot point."

Abruptly, he took her hips and moved her forward. She hadn't even realized she'd been leaning against him for support. Her knees shook, and she nearly wobbled. She turned and glared at him, feeling foolish yet again for falling under that asshole's spell.

"We're up, _bella_," he said, a muscle in his cheek ticking with displeasure. "Step to the window."

* * *

JJ saw Hotch stumble out of the corner of her eye, and she paused, jogging in place. "Hey, are you okay?"

A strange flush covered the bridge of his nose and his cheeks, which only added to his classic appeal. "I'm fine. I...ah...hit a rock or a rut."

"Oh, okay," she answered, and they began running in their usual stride.

However, as they ran, she realized something was bugging her. From the look he'd had and his hesitant answer, she had a feeling that wasn't the whole story. Still, she figured she shouldn't press. Really, he was probably just embarrassed that he'd stumbled. Men were weird about that kind of thing; they liked to appear invincible.

But he only blushed after he looked at her.

She shook her head. Probably, it didn't mean any—

"Can I ask you something?" she blurted out, interrupting her own thoughts.

He arched a dark brow as he jogged. "What is it?"

"Why were you blushing?"

"I was?" he asked, and the same flush he'd had crept back over his straight, perfect nose.

"Hotch," she answered, "you're doing it now."

The most adorable flush blush grew from the bridge of his nose to his ears as he shook his head and chuckled. "I thought I might be doing that."

_Aha!_

"Well," she started, giving him a leading tone when he didn't say anything more, "who were you thinking about? A girl?"

Normally she didn't pry, but she wanted him to know that she was available to talk to. Hotch was far more than a boss to her. He was her friend, too.

Like lightening, he shot his gaze to hers. "Why do you ask that?"

JJ smiled encouragingly. "You asked me for relationship advice, and then you stumbled and blushed. Obviously there was someone on your mind."

He stared at her for a moment, and then he smiled back at her. "You're getting to be one helluva profiler, JJ."

"Oh, that's not profiling," she replied nonchalantly. "That's women's intuition."

"Pardon the mistake," he said apologetically with a brilliant smile that caused her insides to flip. He rarely smiled, but when he did...it was magic. No one had a smile quite like Aaron Hotchner. It made him look younger, relaxed, and even more classically good-looking.

They continued jogging, and the conversation dwindled again. JJ looked over at him as he ran. She'd always thought of him as handsome, but she'd never had the time to study him. She was wrong; he wasn't just handsome—he was the definition of the word. She knew what Prince Charming was supposed to look like. She'd read enough storybooks to Henry. Hotch was it. Tall, broad shouldered, with a chiseled jaw, thick wavy hair, and darkly intense eyes that could see through to her soul.

So...who was his Princess? His very _lucky _Princess...

"Were you thinking about a girl?" she asked again.

He chuckled. "I thought we'd moved past that."

"You didn't answer," she replied.

They rounded the corner to make it back to the training field and the bleachers, and he still hadn't replied. She realized then that she was pushing, and she didn't like to push. She wasn't that kind of person. It drove her crazy when friends of hers didn't know when to stop prying for information.

Besides, it didn't make a difference to her if Hotch was thinking about someone or seeing someone else.

Did it?

As they approached the benches, they slowed to a slower walk. She took a deep breath. "Well, I suppose we—"

"Yes."


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews... I hope you are all having as much fun with this as I am...

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"Yes?" JJ squeaked, not able to mask her surprise in the slightest. "You...ah...said yes?"

She truly hadn't expected him to respond. It was a direct personal question, and she was sure he'd evade her prodding.

She was almost ashamed of herself for poking around so much...

Hotch looked up from where he was stretching between two benches. He had his left leg on the bench in front of him, and he was leaning forward to deepen a hamstring stretch. "Yes."

Her thoughts drifted as she watched the movement of Hotch's leg. She'd never noticed how big and heavy Hotch's thighs were. Not in an overweight sense—far from it—but in a thick, muscular, well-proportioned way. Of course, she rarely got to see them bare; he usually wore a business suit that hung to near perfection on his masculine frame. Will and Spence, the two men she'd seen most often wearing shorts recently, had thinner legs. "Chicken legs," as her family used to call them. Hotch definitely did not have chicken legs!

She hadn't known she was attracted to legs until she watched Hotch's. The lean quadriceps muscle flexed on the top of his leg as he moved his foot and held a stretch. There was a light coating of curling, dark hair—again, more than Will and Spence—that bespoke of maleness and had her itching to run her fingertips across it. It made her wonder how that leg would feel brushing against hers in bed...

"Are you surprised by that?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Fighting to prevent herself from blushing, she tore her gaze from his leg and found herself looking at him. Hell, yes, she was surprised... She was wondering about lying in bed with her boss!

However, she knew her thinking about bedding him wasn't the reason for his question. No, his question had to do with another very lucky woman whom he was interested in that would tangle her legs with his. For a second, she felt bitter_. That was mighty quick, Hotchner_, she thought to herself. He'd just dumped Beth. Morgan and Rossi were the serial lady-killers on the team, not Hotch.

"Quite frankly, yes," she said, taking a seat on the now-dry ground. The sun came up and had dried the dew that had dampened the grass and gravel of the field. "I'm more surprised that you talked to me about it."

He leaned farther forward, deepening his stretch. "You asked."

"Is she good with kids?" she asked in a leading way.

Hotch grimaced slightly as he pulled his left quadriceps behind him. He'd been favoring the right leg when he ran, she noticed. He paused and then answered, "Yes. Jack's met her and really likes her."

Another surprise as her mind began to whir. "Jack met her?"

Hotch nodded before he lowered his leg to the ground and did a toe touch.

She blew out her breath in surprise. This was moving quick! "Does Rossi like her?"

Hotch chuckled for a moment and then answered, "I believe he does."

She blinked again from shock. If Dave, his best friend, had met her, it was getting serious. A strange sadness she didn't quite understand washed over her. They were friends; he was her boss... She should be happy for him that he'd found someone new so quickly.

However, _should be_ and _was _didn't always match.

"Well, I'm glad for you," she said, stretching over her own extended legs. She was not quite telling the truth but not exactly lying. She would be happy for him eventually. It had taken a while for her to like Beth, but she actually did in the long run.

"Thanks," he said, "but that's a bit premature."

Her fine blonde brows drew down in confusion, and she gave a wry grin. "Why is that?"

"You'd asked me if I was thinking about someone," he responded, changing legs. "You didn't ask if I was dating."

"So you're not dating?" Sometimes getting information from Hotch was like peeling a turtle.

"No."

"But you were thinking about someone?" she asked.

"That's correct."

A bolt of interest washed through her. "Someone Jack and Rossi know..."

For a second, Hotch froze. It looked like he was just stretching, but she could tell he was hesitating. She thought she was on to something!

Then he continued the stretch, the placid demeanor he had returning. "Rossi knows her...but he doesn't know that I am interested in her."

"Wow," JJ teased in exaggerated awe, sitting up from her stretch. "I need to partner with you more often; I got to learn something before Dave Rossi. This...this is a shocker."

Hotch chuckled. "Don't tell him. He'll be even more upset he got stuck with Strauss."

* * *

Dave didn't expect it, but he was going to have to thank Aaron Hotchner for setting him up with his lover/arch nemesis for these events. The woman was hot and so on fire that he could smell her salty, sweet essence. She wanted him badly, and he couldn't wait to give himself to her.

Of course, standing in line at the coffee shop was not the spot to do that, even though every fiber of his being was telling him to take her and fuck protocol, the law, _and_ her. Common sense won over horniness, and he'd been gruffer than he'd meant to be when he'd turned her away; he knew he'd upset her.

That was okay. What was between them had nothing to do with emotion.

Sweet Lord, he'd intended on holding out until the end of these three days of training, but he didn't know how much longer he could. Of course, the longer he waited, the more he teased, the greater the payback in bed. Every good lover knew that; it was Seduction 101, for crissakes. He planned on telling her that, too, when she was sated and happy from about twelve orgasms and twenty-four hours of hot sex.

He realized, too, that the more he fought with Erin, the harder it was to keep up that emotional barrier. Few women had the ability to get his goat like she did, and vice versa. They were like two prickly hedgehogs, with the mating appetite of minks.

He hadn't made love as much in his twenties as he had that month he'd been with Erin Strauss.

That was why he'd fought so hard against pairing with her—there was something crazy inside him that told him she was his perfect match. He didn't want to be so near to her, wanting her, and he sure as hell did not want to be in love... which had been a distinct possibility. He'd been there, done that, and failed miserably three times. This time, he had even more to lose, like his job that he adored. He was smitten, but he wasn't stupid.

So at the end of their affair a month ago, when he'd fallen asleep in her bed with her curled in the crook of his shoulder like she fucking belonged there, he'd panicked. Earlier that night, he'd felt his heart begin to turn. It was supposed to be just sex. They'd agreed on that, yet he'd fallen for her anyway.

"Erin...I think I'm in love with you," he'd told her. It had been a painful admission, like he'd been socked in the gut by the truth of it when he'd said it.

Kissing his navel as she'd crawled up the bed, she'd plopped down on her pillow and chuckled. "Oh, please... Any woman who did what I'd just done would get that response from you, Agent Rossi."

He hadn't fought to clarify what he'd meant. Deep down he'd known it would never work. They lacked trust. The animosity between them had been earned on both of their behalves. She'd sold him out in many ways to get where she was, and he'd knocked her off her high horse and showed her a decided lack of respect she had assuredly earned from him.

He couldn't deny what he felt, but he couldn't tell her, either. So, he'd run from her welcoming bed—one he'd fought like hell to get into in the first place—and never called her back.

She'd been angry, he could see it in her eyes, but she had been business as usual at work. There'd been no accusations or blame, just a frostily cold look that said she'd expected such behavior from him. No trust...no faith. As for him, he would admit the truth to himself—she did belong in his arms, and in the perverse depths of his being, he wanted her there...but then what?

Somehow, he couldn't picture himself and Strauss with a picket fence and a dog.

Still, she deserved more pleasures. Seeing her with her nasty coffee and tight ass smile, made him want to ruffle her feathers and force her to relax. She was in her fifties, she'd worked hard all her life like he had. It was time to enjoy.

That settled it for him. He'd give her pleasure that she lacked—all kinds of pleasure: massages, kisses, touches, oral, vaginal, anal—and then he'd kick her to the side before he couldn't let her go again and he made a fool out of himself...a fool in love.

He retrieved the two cups of coffee he'd ordered for them and handed one to Erin. "Feel that."

They started making their way out of the coffee shop. "Yes. It's hot coffee."

"No, Erin," he replied silkily. "You waited a long time for this; make it an experience. Wrap your hand around the cup, feel the heat warm your cold fingers, smell the hand-picked, slowly-roasted Colombian beans—"

"Movin' Mojo uses Colombian."

He chuckled. "That's like comparing a symphony to a fart. Savor, Erin. Anticipate."

She snorted. "This is insane."

He reached for her hand and brought her to the luxury sedan he drove. "Lean here."

Sighing and rolling her eyes, Erin leaned back against the car. She jolted a little bit, and he knew why; it was a brisk morning, and the metal was cold.

"Now, close your eyes and take a sip," he said. "Let that hot liquid roll down your throat, _cara_, and taste the perfect blend of smooth and bitter as it rolls over your tongue. Feel it warm you from inside, baby..."

As he spoke, all sorts of deliciously filthy thoughts rolled through his head, but she obviously was not getting the connection—or refused to acknowledge it.

With a scowl, she raised the cup and closed her eyes. He watched as she took the sip of the best cup of coffee in Quantico, worth the wait in line and its weight in gold. It took a moment, but her lips began to curl in a smile... a satisfied smile far from her usual icy smirk.

"That _is_ good," she said.

It was better than good, he thought, watching her eyes darkening with pleasure. The double entendre of his words had been lost on her, but not on himself, and he was hardening rapidly to painful proportions.

"Better than Movin' Mojo?" he asked throatily, arching a mocking brow.

So pleased with the cup of Joe, she didn't seem to mind his mocking. She shook her head, took another sip, and then smiled again in that lazy, relaxed way he got to see far too little from her. "No comparison."

"Erin," he said, leaning closer to her, "life is far too short for bad coffee."

She chuckled. "Very well. I'll take the time to buy myself a cup here and there."

Pleased with her concession, he gave into impulse and kissed her forehead. "Good girl."

She was staring at him again, those blue eyes hesitant, almost innocent, and an ache in his heart began. But then she walled herself off again and said, "Okay. I agree with you on coffee. What is next in your pursuit of hedonism, David?"

Dave hadn't thought that far...but then it came to him like lightening. Something they'd discussed earlier...

"Underwear shopping."


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Thanks for the reviews, lovely peeps! Here we go with the next installment... Hope you are having as much fun with these four as I am!

* * *

**Chapter 6**

The next day, Erin walked into the lingerie shop with David Rossi just behind her. Her disdain for the shop was evident in her expression; it represented a lot of what she despised in life. There was a tyranny attached to Victoria's Secret she couldn't tolerate. Even the name of the store seemed to be a mockery of one of the most powerful female leaders ever to grace the earth.

Yes, there was a hideous misogyny with that underwear shop that made her positively ill. Everything about the store catered to men and their desires. She glanced up at the mannequins wearing see-through lace panties that could not possibly be comfortable and lace bras that probably chaffed even their plastic nipples, and she glared viciously. That stupid mannequin was even wearing high-heeled marabou slippers! Everything about that outfit prostituted a woman to a man and was built for a man's pleasure. Why would a woman choose to wear something uncomfortable like that?

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a woman with her husband. He was nodding approvingly at a string bikini his wife was dangling from her fingers. Of course he would give his approval for that; he'd probably never had his pubic hair pulled by errant strings. She shook her head. Poor foolish woman...if he really loved her, he'd love her in serviceable, comfortable cotton panties!

A wide-eyed, rather Nubian sales girl with a tape measure draped around her neck stepped over to Erin with a vapid smile on her face. "Welcome. Is there anything I can help you wi—oh!"

The girl accidentally dropped her clipboard she was carrying. As she bent to pick it up, her very low-riding—why did women need to wear things that barely covered their backsides?—black dress pants dipped low, flashing a neon pink triangle that lead to a string disappearing in her pants.

She might as well be wearing a sign flashing, _"Take me! I'm __desperate, and__ I will be your slave!"_

Erin nearly gagged in revulsion. She couldn't do this; she could not step any farther into this atrociously oversexed, submissive hellhole.

She stopped in her tracks and turned around, nearly knocking Dave off his feet.

"Wait a minute there," he said, holding her shoulders and halting her. "Where do you think you are going?"

She gave him her frostiest glare. "Anywhere but in there."

Dave's eyes danced with mirth. "What is your problem with Victoria's Secret?"

Erin couldn't believe what she was hearing. What wasn't a problem?!

She raised her chin. "There is _nothing _in that store that appeals to me."

Dave looked around at the panties, the bras, and the mannequins. "I can see a lot that appeals to me."

She snorted. "You _would_ like this! Poor young anorexic tarts, scantily clad in strips of scratchy and uncomfortable lace, desperate for attention."

"_Desperate _for attention?" he asked, arching a dark brow in his handsome, swarthy face. "_Cara_...you've got this whole thing wrong."

It was moments like that Erin wished she had a flip-top head; her chin wouldn't raise any higher than it was right now. "I repeat: there is nothing in that shop for me. It's degrading and demeaning."

For a moment, Dave just looked at her, and then he smiled. However, it wasn't a toxic smile; it wasn't mocking or teasing. Instead, it was gentle, almost sweet, as he cupped her face in his hands and lowered her chin to meet his eye level.

"Erin...I promised you pleasures, right?"

She nodded.

"And even though I am a bastard at times, I am never a liar," he continued softly, coaxingly.

She couldn't argue with that.

"So please...come with me," he whispered, bringing his forehead to hers. "I would really appreciate it."

Erin stiffened and jerked her head away from him. He must want this badly, to say please to her. He rarely did; he ordered and badgered, and she ordered and badgered him, like the enemies they were. It made her tense and wary of his motives.

"Why does this matter to you?"

She couldn't figure it out. He could look at the catalog or online to see other tarts; he didn't need to see her prancing around like an imbecile. Besides, even if it gave him great pleasure, she wouldn't subject herself to degradation or lower herself.

Amazingly, he seemed to be thinking about what she'd said. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily before he opened them again and said, "I don't know why. Just...trust me this once."

He reached for her hand and patiently waited for her to grasp it.

Something in those dark, espresso eyes filtered to her soul, and before she knew what she was doing, she took his hand and entered enemy territory.

* * *

After their marathon run yesterday, JJ and Hotch had decided on a day of classroom training. They'd done manual training, procedures and policies, and coasted through easily until lunch. After lunch, they would be doing CPR training.

Hotch dotted the last I and crossed the last T on his form, and then he stretched his arms above his head. "I'm finished," he said softly so he didn't startle her.

JJ was looking down at her paper, and he saw her signing her name with a flourish. Jennifer Jareau. She didn't sign with LaMontange, which had an odd dual effect, both pleasing him and making him feel for her.

"Done!" she said, recapping her pen and looking up at him with a bright smile.

She was so stunning, she took his breath away when she smiled at him. He found himself staring at her, studying her beautiful face, before he cleared his throat.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, his tone still sounding throaty, even to himself. He grimaced inwardly. He was hungry...but not only for food. That wasn't a shock, but it was an inconvenience.

_Slow, Aaron. Take it slow_, he chastised himself. _Gauge and assess the situation before you react._

JJ's grin widened. "I'm famished. Did you bring a lunch, or are you free to go out somewhere?"

"How about the Italian Oven?" he asked. That was a nice pizza place nearby.

She shook her head. "No. Too heavy, and too much garlic. I have to breathe with CPR, and..." She laughed as her words drifted off, and her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink.

"Okay, no vampire breath for either of us," he said with a bright grin of his own. JJ had been inspiring a lot of those lately in him.

"Chin's Mongolian?" she asked.

He stroked his chin in thought. "Hmmm...I've never been there."

"Oh, it's fabulous," she gushed, standing up and retrieving her purse. "Lots of fresh vegetables, and you get to pick your sauces."

He nodded in approval as he opened the door for her. "Sounds good."

She smiled at him again and leaned into his side, like a lover would. A whoosh of electric delight rolled over him, but it was short-lived. Her hand barely touched his back, when she stepped back, stiffening. "Oh...I'm sorry...I..."

"It's okay, JJ," he murmured.

She grinned sheepishly. "Habit, I guess."

He knew how that felt. After Haley had left for witness protection, he'd done so many things out of habit. Sleeping only on his side of the bed, lowering the toilet seat, buying her brand of coffee creamer—all of them were things that meant normalcy. He knew better than to think it meant she was interested at that moment or trying for something—even if he wished she was.

"I understand."

She took a deep breath and then sighed, smiling ruefully at him. "This can be your trial run. You can see if you like this place, and then maybe you can take your mystery woman there..."

Her leading tone was comical. He knew that she planned on being more inquisitive about their conversation they'd had yesterday.

"Haven't forgotten about that yet, hmm?"

"Nope," she said, popping the p sound as they continued to the elevator.

Hotch chuckled, following her and anticipating lunch more than he'd ever thought he could.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Thought I would hurry and get this out before CM tonight... As for the story... these two pairs are starting to need a room! Hee hee!

* * *

**Chapter 7**

As JJ stood in line right behind Hotch at Chin's Mongolian, she pondered what she was going to eat—bamboo shoots or water chestnuts, chicken or beef, noodles or rice—and was coming up with a fast solution.

The other problem she was pondering didn't have such a quick resolution.

She wanted to do a massive facepalm. How could she have been so stupid, leaning into Hotch like he was her man? He was her boss and her friend; he most certainly was not _her man_. She winced at how possessive and kind of tacky those words seemed to be. They sounded archaic, like something Garcia had done with Morgan—her man and his woman—long before they ever started dating.

As JJ ogled Hotch's tight buttocks and long legs—oh, those gorgeous legs!—she started thinking she was being really desperate. True, it had been a very long time since she'd made love to a man, but—

"JJ?" Hotch asked, unexpectedly turning to face her...and giving her an eyeful of his crotch.

With flaming cheeks, she shot her gaze back up to his, but not before she'd noticed how sizable he was. _Good Lord_...

"Yes?!" she practically shouted, trying to appear nonchalant and failing miserably.

_Oh, God..._

The corner of Aaron's mouth quirked slightly. "I was wondering if you had a suggestion on sauces?"

"Um..."

_Sauces. Hotch, _her wicked mind teased her, conjugating things in rapid fashion_. Hotch's "sauce"..._

She blanched internally, turning on her propriety filter that usually never failed her. Garcie's failed her on a regular basis—so much so, it was expected—but not her.

Never her.

She clenched her eyes shut for a moment. _No, JJ__...don't__ go there..._

When she opened her eyes, she noticed that one of his dark brows was raised in concern. "JJ...are you okay?"

"I'm fine! Great!" she answered, wanting to crawl under a rock. Lord, the clawing, indecent, downright sweaty things she was thinking!

He was smiling at her. "You look a little flushed."

Feeling her cheeks heat even more, she clutched her stomach. "Maybe it's low blood sugar?" she offered helpfully. It wasn't a fib. Not exactly...

"Ah, I see." As she watched him like a hawk, he reached into his pocket, causing his pants to form around his...

JJ closed her eyes again. What was happening to her? She hadn't had sex in months before Will left, but Hotch was not the person to be thinking about ending that abstinence streak with. He had someone he was interested in, someone he seemed to really like. She wouldn't throw herself at him; she had some pride. She was not pathetic or desperate!

She opened her eyes to see him holding a peppermint lifesaver. "Here," he said softly. "This might help while you're waiting."

She winced again. Was her breath terrible? Oh, man, add insult to injury. "Help?"

He smiled again. "Your blood sugar, JJ."

Her mouth fell open, but she quickly shut it. "Oh." She'd forgotten her excuse completely. With a smile of self-derision, she reached for the lifesaver in his palm. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He turned back as the lunchtime crowd started to move forward in line, and JJ let her shoulders sag helplessly. She needed to get herself together. She'd spent time with Hotch many times before, talking, sharing parenting skills, laughing, and relaxing. He was a wonderful person; she adored him...as a friend. It needed to stay that way. Just because she was suddenly free didn't mean things had changed to something sexual—and it didn't mean that he was free, either.

Now if she could just convince her libido and her attraction to this delicious man of their platonic status before she threw herself panting at him, she'd be peachy keen.

* * *

Slowly, Dave placed a gentling hand on Erin's back, much as he would a skittish colt, and led her into the lingerie store.

"Is everything okay?" the young sales girl asked, concern in her heavily made up features. This girl was less than half of Erin's age, yet she was wearing three times the makeup of the woman by his side. There was no doubt who was more naturally beautiful; Erin won that race hands down. He realized he wasn't at all attracted to the salesgirl, who had given him an interested look. She was young enough to be his...best friend's daughter. Maybe he was growing up?

"We're fine...Brekka," he said, squinting to read the girl's nametag. He needed bifocals for reading, another surefire sign of his maturity. "We're just going to search around for a spell."

Brekka beamed. "Okay. If there is anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask me."

As he stepped farther into the store, the ultra feminine scents of powders, florals, and fruits rose around him. The scents were meant to be intoxicating and arousing, like the scantily clad mannequins and photos of supermodels in their skivvies.

Almost immediately, Dave began to smirk to himself. _Young, anorexic tarts_, Erin had called them. He'd never looked at them that way before—he was an average guy with average guy lusts—and now he highly doubted he'd ever be able to look at them again without thinking about those words. They looked decidedly young, with ridiculously pumped up lips in a perpetual pout, trying too hard to look sexy.

Sexiness was an acquired attribute in his opinion.

Again, Erin flashed in his mind, arching and flexing beneath him as he drove home into the hot, tight heaven between her legs, her blue eyes darkened to sapphire, glittering with fire as she approached an orgasm—

"I'm sorry, David, but I cannot be in here," she said stiffly, interrupting his thoughts.

"Shh, _cara_," he whispered, putting his fingertip against her lips. He reached for a pair of panties on the nearest table. "These are silk—"

"I know what fabric it is," she interrupted icily.

Ignoring her, he continued, "The finest Italian silk, meant to caress the body they're put on. They're soft, delicate, tender...meant to ride against your skin in equally tender areas." He brushed the fabric against the inside of her wrist, murmuring low, "I know areas on your body that are softer, smoother, silkier than this..."

He watched as the fine hairs on her arms rose, goose bumps of pleasure erecting themselves on her limbs.

"It's a pity to abrade those sweet, sweet areas with harsh cotton," he said, drawing the panties back and putting them on the table. "Isn't it?"

He realized then that was what was driving him so much to get her in this store. He wanted her to be draped in silks and satins. She'd earned the best, put in her time. Life was too short to wear substandard things. She was worthy of the very best... A worthy opponent, and a worthy lover.

When he met her eyes again, she was staring at him blankly. "So you are saying that my underwear should do homage to my tender areas?"

"More than that," he said, taking her hand and dragging her to the next table. "I think it should be a highlight to your beauty. Case in point." Dave reached for a pair of lacy bikini panties, with the front panel nearly completely lace.

Erin pulled a face. "Scratchy, miserable fabric."

"Soft, high-quality fabric," he said, holding her wrist and running the fabric on the inside again. "Sweetheart, this is delicately knit...so soft...and the color..."

Dave's voice had grown husky, and he closed his eyes, picturing in his mind what he would see. The peach fabric would contrast perfectly with the warm, golden brown curls between Erin's legs. The peeks he'd catch of the curls through the lace...

"I understand."

Dave's eyes shot open at her words. Erin was staring at him, the cool blue of her eyes lit with amusement, emphasized by the slight smile curving her lips.

"You do?" he croaked and then cleared his throat. Christ, he sounded like a pubescent boy!

"Yes," she drawled, fingering the lace like he wanted to finger her, wickedly...teasingly. "I think I may have been too rash when I judged this store in the past."

A faint warning bell sounded in Dave's head. Erin never changed her judgment that quickly on anything, much less something he'd suggest. No, she definitely had something in mind.

"I don't follow, Erin..."

"In fact," she announced, turning to the saleswoman. "Excuse me...Brekka?"

The perky, helpful girl came bouncing over. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I would like to try on that outfit, please," she said, pointing to a mannequin wearing a low-cut satin camisole top and matching tap pants.

The flash of Erin's eyes bespoke of triumph when she turned back to him, and at that moment, David Rossi knew he was in trouble...


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Thanks again for the reviews. I am sorry I am behind on answering—work has been a beast this week (Don't they know I need to write? LOL)-but you all know that I will personally respond to them when I get a chance. Heading to Chicago for the weekend with my spouse, so I thought I would hustle and get this out there...

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Erin was so ecstatic, she was nearly bursting at the seams. So much so, she practically skipped into the dressing room after Brekka handed her the satin outfit she was going to try on.

"Here you go, ma'am," the sales girl said, using a key to open the dressing room door. "And ma'am? There is a private viewing area, if you'd like an opinion on your outfit."

Her smile grew even more. "That would be nice."

Brekka beamed brightly. "Okay. I'll show your spouse his seat."

That made her smile drop off her face.

Instinctively, Erin nearly shouted that David was not her spouse, but she quickly rethought doing so. Standing in a dressing room, modeling intimate apparel for a man who was not her spouse sounded far more tawdry than it really was.

This was not tawdry.

This was _revenge_.

From the moment she'd seen the barely perceptible flicker in David's expression and the far more noticeable rise in his pants, she realized she had mistaken this entire store. This was not a place for women to be subjugated. Sure, men enjoyed themselves, too, but this... This was a place where women had a form of power. Sexual power.

And she was going to wield hers to bring David Rossi to his knees.

For two whole days, he'd teased her, taunted her, and played with her until she'd crumbled onto her bed at night at the end of the day, aroused, furious, and frustrated. It was time to give some much deserved payback to the star player. For the first time ever in their relationship—if you could call it a relationship—Erin was going to pull the strings of the master puppeteer.

As Erin removed her blouse and brassiere, she felt a chill. The air conditioning in the dressing room was nearly subarctic. Swiftly, her nipples rose to hard little peaks, and when she slid the satiny camisole on, they were highly visible through the fabric. She was rather proud of her breasts. Although they weren't as high or firm as they had been when she was younger, they were sizable and had maintained their shape after nursing her kids.

She also had to begrudgingly admit that David was right again. The satin positively caressed her skin, sliding effortlessly over her body as she moved to fold her bra and shirt. It felt like a feather was teasing her most sensitive areas, and her nipples stayed perked, even when she adjusted to the temperature of the room.

Erin dropped her skirt and folded that before she reached for the bottoms of the skimpy outfit. Brekka had warned her that she needed to keep her underwear on when she tried on the tap pants; otherwise, she would need to purchase them. She slid them on, and her trusty white cotton panties showed through the bottom and the top, completely ruining the effect she was going for.

With a frown, she slid both bottoms off. She gasped at the outlandish price and then quickly tore the tag off before she could change her mind.

It was worth the money to make him suffer.

A second later, she had the satiny bottoms on, and she needed to hold back a shiver of delight at how they felt. These panties did not come in a six pack like her usual brand did—sometimes eight for the price of six, if she were lucky—but they were definitely worth it.

She couldn't stop smiling as she looked at herself in the mirror. "Not bad, Erin," she whispered approvingly. "Not bad..."

The higher cut of the fabric made her legs look a mile long. They were by far her best feature. Thank goodness she'd shaved recently. Being a single woman, once in a while, she'd let that go longer than she should. Looking at them now, she was tempted to get a pair of those marabou slippers. The bottoms were generous enough to hide any imperfections around her tummy and hips, which was a blessing. Combined with the low-cut top, she looked like a cross between casual elegance and casual sex, in rich, sapphire tones that brought out the smoky blue lights in her eyes.

_It's finally time to shut you up, David Rossi, and show you who's really the chief in this partnership_, she thought wickedly as she knocked on the connecting door to the viewing area.

"David?" she cooed in a tone she'd never before used in her life.

"If it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to do this, Erin," he said... and if she wasn't mistaken, there was a hint—just a teeny hint—of apprehension in his voice.

"Oh, yes, I do," she whispered to herself before opening the door and stepping out.

* * *

Hotch found himself smiling and laughing a lot during lunch with JJ. She was wonderful company and a great conversationalist. But that wasn't why he was smiling. He was smiling because Jennifer Jareau liked him. _Really_ liked him.

Aaron was excellent at reading people; he wasn't a premiere profiler for nothing. When JJ had been so nervous, he'd caught her staring and thinking. From her acutely flustered reaction, what she was thinking was probably similar to what he'd been pondering earlier during their run yesterday, and from where she'd been staring...

Well, that was another plus!

Now, as he sat across from the beautiful blonde, he found himself in a predicament. He didn't know how to come out and say the woman he'd been considering dating was JJ herself. She was logical and thoughtful, a professional and a mother. Chances are, she would appreciate a straight forward approach.

Then again...when she'd asked, he'd hidden the fact that it was her. Not technically a lie, but an omission of cowardice on his behalf. He'd have to admit that he'd needed proof that she liked him before he'd made his move, and that seemed...juvenile. He was wary; he didn't want to make his attraction to her seem flippant or careless.

It was a well thought out process.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, halting with a piece of stir-fried chicken in her chopsticks. She arched a fine, blonde brow at him and gave the smirk that only JJ could give. "That girl again?"

"Yes," he said, digging the hole a touch deeper and making him disgusted with himself in the process.

"Ah," she said, taking the bite. She chewed and swallowed before asking, "Does she like Asian food?"

"She does," Hotch said.

Hotch thought he noticed the brightness in JJ's eyes dimming just slightly. "You know her food preferences. That's...great." Her expression, no matter how hard she tried to hide it, did not echo her bubbly tone.

He winced. He couldn't let her suffer, thinking it was someone else, even if it did make him look childish and insecure. In this case, he was insecure. This was important—JJ was important to him...as a teammate, a friend and, hopefully someday soon, a lover. He didn't want to make a costly mistake.

"JJ," he began softly, but she interrupted.

"I think she's has great taste, Aaron," JJ said, smiling across the table encouragingly. She rarely called him Aaron, only when they were discussing kids or life. Only when they were alone, being friends instead of coworkers or boss and employee. She reached across and squeezed his hand. "In many things."

Suddenly, Hotch knew what he had to do.

"She does," he began, holding her hand in return. "There's so much to like about her."

She tugged at her hand, but he didn't let it go.

"Really?"

"Yes," he said. "She's a single mom."

"Oh."

"A fantastic working mom who is dedicated to her family and her job, managing to blend the two seamlessly, making others wonder how she does it," he said.

She snorted. "Sounds like wonder woman." She wasn't at all successful in hiding the sarcasm in her tone.

"That's right," he added with a smile. "She's somewhat of a super hero, works in law enforcement, and fights for those who can't fight themselves."

"She's remarkable."

"She is," he continued. "She's got a lot of friends who love and appreciate her, but she's grounded and centered. She's funny, can be teasing at times, but takes care to encourage and comfort those around her."

When she didn't comment, he added, "She's athletic. I learned very recently that she can run laps around me in short shorts that show off her long, beautiful legs..."

Slowly, JJ's eyes widened as understanding started hitting her.

With a squeeze of her hand, he said, "She likes her morning coffee with two sugars and a dash of cream, and she's blonde...about one ten and—" he reached his other hand over her head in the booth "—this tall."

JJ had a look of dazed wonderment on her pretty face. She clasped her hands in her lap and stared at them, obviously thinking for a moment.

When she looked back up at him, it was with a brilliant smile. "So...do you think she'll like this place?"

Hotch grinned in return. "I don't know, JJ," he said, arching his brow. "Do you?"


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews! I would also like to extend a sincere thank you to those that nominated me in the Chit Chat On Author's Corner Profiler's Choice Awards. I have been nominated in six categories! I am astounded, humbled, and so very pleased. Check out the ballot and the stories on there. Maybe you'll find a new favorite? www. Fanfiction topic/74868/73609377/1/2012-Profiler-s-Choice -CM- Awards-FINAL-VOTING-BALLOT-HERE

* * *

**Chapter 9**

With a grin she knew had to be goofy, JJ smiled over at Hotch. She knew her expression was plain to be seen and her heart was in her eyes, but she didn't care. Hotch—err, Aaron, that is—wanted to go on a date with her, and she couldn't be happier about it.

"Yes, I do," she said, still smiling brightly.

Aaron reached over the table and squeezed her hand. "I'm glad, JJ."

JJ's heart was singing. This was a long time coming. It seemed a natural progression from what had happened between them the last few years. Her assignment to another job, her assistance with Prentiss's undercover work... She'd been in close contact with Aaron the entire time. He'd fought tooth and nail against the brass's decision to make her leave, and she'd been his first suggestion with Emily's dilemma. When she'd returned to the BAU, both he and Rossi had been her undying support.

However, his friendship had really shined and blossomed the last two months. She could call on him, and he'd be there. He was certainly her friend. He was someone she could count on, in work and in her real life, always. In getting to know him as a friend, she'd grown to know him as a man, and the attraction between them had bloomed.

She could easily fall in love with him. Maybe she already had? That made her blink; was she ready for a new relationship?

It was so different than any other relationship she had. With Will, love had hit like a hurricane, fast and furious, and had faded the same way, leaving an aftermath of destruction in its wake. With Aaron, it was like a gentle rain, nurturing, caring, sure and steady.

She looked over at him and knew instantly she was ready for that next step.

"I am also free Saturday..." she said in a leading fashion.

"Saturday, hmm..."

JJ watched as Aaron's expression dimmed somewhat, and she began to panic. Instinctively, she began to backpedal. "Is that too soon? We can wait, if that's a problem?"

"No, JJ," he said with a smile. "I was just hoping for something earlier."

JJ drew her bottom lip in between her teeth. It was already Tuesday, so she was anticipating something good. However, she was a realist, and she tried not to get her hopes up too high. "How much earlier?"

Aaron's grin was brilliant, and a slight flush crossed his high cheekbones. "I was thinking tonight, but I realize that could be a problem."

Pleased with his eagerness and exuberance, JJ answered, "I'm not sure Uncle Spencer is available for this evening, but I can ask him."

He stroked his chin with a devilish gleam in his eyes as he pondered the situation. "I wonder if I can assign him mandatory overtime duty...?"

It was obvious he was teasing, but there was a touch of heat in his eyes that spoke of his interest and excitement. Those eyes of his had such smoldering appeal, intense and strong, as did his classically handsome face...and his tight buttocks and fantastic legs...

JJ blinked at how quick her thoughts shifted. It seemed the gentle rain had some electrical lightening surges, too.

She tittered with laughter at thoughts and the situation at hand. "I'm not sure Strauss would be too happy about that!"

Aaron snorted. "We may not have to worry. She and Rossi have probably killed each other by now."

* * *

When Erin arrived out of the dressing room, Dave's breath hitched in his throat. She was gorgeous, all smooth satin and lace, with miles of legs and a decadent cleavage that didn't need to be enhanced or lifted. Erin had a body on her, that was for damn sure, and a beautiful face that matched...when she didn't snap his head off or snarl at him.

Actually, he was lying to himself. It didn't matter what mood she was in; she was always magnificent to him. When she was angry, her eyes flashing indignant blue fire at him, heating his core and his erection, or chilling him to the bone with ice, making him want to melt her so she dripped sweetness like candy, she was just as undeniably fantastic as she was right now.

"You're stunning, Erin," he said gruffly, reaching for her hand. He led her into a pirouette so he could see all the angles of her, and he could find no visible flaws.

"Thank you," she said graciously, a smile barely turning up the corners of her pale pink lips.

He couldn't take his eyes off her. There was a delicacy about her in those clothes, a softness that brought about her femininity and made him want to protect her, cherish her, and make love to her.

Which order those three came in, he didn't know.

"So," he said, forcing himself to snap back to the task at hand. "Was I right? Do you like how it feels against your skin?"

"Oh, you were," she said, smiling at him. "It feels very decadent and delightful." To make a point, she closed her eyes and ran a hand over her satin-covered stomach. "Very rich and soothing."

"Can I feel?" he asked.

Erin's eyes snapped open, and she stared at him. "Okay..."

Immediately, Dave reached for her and pulled her soft body into his embrace.

"Not like that!" she said breathlessly.

"No," he murmured. "_Exactly_ like that..."

She was a perfect fit, her breasts against his chest, her hips aligned with his, her mouth at a level he didn't need to bend. He knew other areas that were a perfect fit for his body, too. It was like she was made for him, carved from the same stone by the Master Carver Himself.

For a moment, he let his hands trail up and down her back, feeling the slide of satin against his rough fingertips. He wanted to take that camisole off, feel his fingers against her skin, which he knew from experience was even softer. He reached down, barely touching the beginning curve of her sweet ass, seconds from cupping her and bringing her into closer contact with his now-raging erection.

"Does it feel good?" she asked, bringing his attention back to her face and her words.

"Hell, yes," he growled, dropping his hands that crucial inch to squeeze her bottom.

She spun out of his embrace before he could get a grip on her. "That's good to know."

There was a cool smile curving her lips when she said that, and it began to put him at warning. "How is that?"

"I'm glad my future lovers will enjoy this outfit I am purchasing," she drawled. "You're great practice."

He paused, knowing a thunderous scowl was arriving on his face faster than he could prevent it. Future lovers... What in the hell was she talking about? He was her lover right now—he had every intention of plunking down the cash for that outfit today and peeling it off...

And then he noticed the smirk on her face. Oh, hell... He'd just been played.

"Truly, David, I appreciate your candor," she said, still smirking vividly. "I don't have the vast depth of knowledge regarding men that you do with women—you've been with so many women—so your opinion is _crucial_ to me." She batted her eyelashes. "Absolutely c_rucial._"

"That's great," he said nonchalantly. "Since I like it, I know I'll be asking _my_ future lovers to wear something similar..."

He watched as his words hit the intended target, wiping the smirk right off her face. Good.

"Indeed," she said, raising her chin haughtily before a bitter snicker escaped her lips. "I take it you have someone in mind already..."

"I do, in fact," he drawled slowly, pushing the envelope as he always did with her, ready to knock her down off her high horse. "I am sure Amber Cartwright will look perfect in the ruby version, don't you agree?"

Amber was a little tart, about half of Erin's age, who continued to pursue him, even though he truly had no interest in her. He knew Erin was aware of her. Just about everyone was aware of the constant flirtation the girl put him through. Truth be told, Erin really didn't have to worry; he was beyond girls in their twenties with little to no real life experience.

"Oh," Erin replied, giving him a disdainful look, as if she found him beneath her.

He'd had it with her uppity ass. Digging in the hatchet a bit further, Dave looped his fingers in his lapel of his jacket and said with a smile, "My type of girl, that Amber: ready and willing."

Erin's face was blank and her tone cool. "I'm sure she'll be stunning."

For a brief second, he was proud of his retort, and then he watched her...really watched her. He'd expected the green fire of jealousy, or the wheels turning in her mind as she thought of another retort to sting him with...but what he hadn't expected was the hurt. True, soul deep hurt flashed in her blue eyes before she could raise her chin even higher with icy condescension.

Dave felt his chest constrict. He hadn't meant for that. He hadn't meant to hurt her. He'd gotten carried away, like he always did when it came to Erin. He reached for her. "Erin..."

"I'm glad we both got something out of this," she said with a brittle tone, quickly sidestepping his reach, and then turned for her dressing room and nearly dove inside.


	10. Chapter 10

AN: Thank you for the reviews! Here comes another chapter! Enjoy...

* * *

**Chapter 10**

The moment she shut the door, she leaned against it and hung her head. Tears gathered in her eyes. What had she been thinking? She was no femme fatale. Even in her younger years, she wasn't the kind of woman that warmed a man's blood. She couldn't keep the interest of Richard Strauss enough to keep him from divorcing her for a much younger woman; how on earth did she expect to hold the interest of someone like David Rossi?

She glanced in the mirror and wanted to break it. What a fool she'd been! She'd thought she had the power, had thought she was stunning, when instead, she'd looked like some pitiful geriatric slut. Erin knew better than to be prancing around, trying to be something she wasn't.

Amber Cartwright could prance around. Amber Cartwright wouldn't have to hide sagging boobs and a pouchy belly that had bore children.

Even worse, she had to come to grips with why it hurt so much to imagine David with that tramp Amber. Because it really hurt—oh! How it hurt!—to think of him with someone else.

She shook her head in disgust. She was double the fool, feeling bad about her foolishness in believing in her own appeal and falling in love with David Rossi.

A knock startled her. "Erin...let me in."

"I'm getting dressed," she lied, growling over the throaty, tear-soaked quality to her voice. _Curse you, David Rossi!_

"Erin, please," he begged, but she didn't care. She was done flirting with him, done letting him tease her, doing this dance that would only lead to heartbreak for her.

Erin began tugging the satiny top up, when the door swung open neatly. She pulled it down quickly and gasped.

Dave stepped inside. "It pays to have grown up on the wrong side of the tracks," he drawled, holding up a paperclip he'd obviously used to pick the door lock.

"Get out," she ground out, glaring at him.

"My answer to that...hmmm... How do the kids say it nowadays?" he asked, stroking that irritatingly sexy goatee of his. "Ah, that's right. No."

She raised her chin higher. "David, I am warning you. Leave."

"Nope," he said, closing the door. "Not until I get my say."

She scoffed. "Of course you'd want it your way."

"I'm selfish like that," he said with a smile. It was a warm smile, not his usual snark. It threw her. Was he pitying her? "Besides...I have a lot to say."

Her icy disdain and self-protection mode came back. "I think we've said enough to one another to last a lifetime."

"Oh, we've talked," he said, "but we've never listened."

"You need to go," she said before her heart exploded in her chest.

He stepped closer. "I can't do that, Erin."

"Don't come any closer," she snapped, holding her hand up. "I... I will scream."

She hated how melodramatic that sounded, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. She could never think when David was nearby.

He pulled her struggling form into his arms. He was so much stronger than she was. It galled her, their physical differences. She was a woman who could take care of herself, but he had a way of making her feel very...feminine.

She hated it.

"I'll stop you," he murmured softly, "in the best way possible."

"Go stop Amber Cartwright!" she snarled, and then she groaned, realizing how much that statement revealed. _Great, Erin! Show him you care__...__ Give him more ammunition!_

"I can't do that, either," he said, not taking the potshot she anticipated he would.

"Why not?" she huffed, still struggling to get away from him.

"Because I don't want to kiss Amber Cartwright." Dave held her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. "I don't want her...not like I want you."

Erin paused in her struggling and stared at him. "What did you say?"

That warm smile was back. "I said I don't want Amber Cartwright." He brushed his thumb over her cheek, tucked a stray blonde hair behind her ear.

Erin couldn't stop the fluid that accumulated in her eyes. "But...but you said..."

"I was jealous of the idea of you with other men, and I struck out like the immature bastard I can be at times." His look of self-disgust was plainly evident. "I'm sorry for that."

Erin felt her heart pounding erratically in her chest as she stared into the warm, espresso depths of his eyes. She wanted to believe in him, but he'd hurt her...so many ways.

"Yeah, right," she said, tugging her chin away from his grasp. "This is coming from a man who willingly left my bed a month ago and never looked back."

"You're wrong." He secured her chin again. "I look back all the time, constantly. I think about it, about us, always. I was scared, and I was a fool, but I can't be... I can't let you go.

Suddenly, he reached for her bottom and drew her close to him. "Feel what you do to me...what you've always done to me. I _need_ you, Erin," he whispered fiercely, leaning in to kiss her neck.

Erin stood still, shocked, feeling the heat of his burning erection through the satin of her pants, making her knees weak.

"I need you, Erin. I've never needed anything or _anyone_ like I need you," he repeated, holding his temple against hers. "You're a necessity to me. Hell, I'm so pathetic, I look forward to our fights."

She couldn't help but smile. She was just as pathetic: she looked forward to them, too.

"Please, Erin," he said softly. "Be my girl...mine alone. I can't promise you peace and a life of ease, but I can promise you devotion...to the point where you'll be sick of me."

She snorted somewhat. She highly doubted she'd get sick of him. He was in her blood as badly as she was in his.

"Sweetheart...put me out of my misery."

She pulled back and looked into his dark eyes. "I think we put each other _in _misery sometimes..."

He chuckled. "That we do...but at least we're together."

She smiled to herself; that's what really counted. He was her fire, the passion in her life. "You are a devil, David Rossi."

"But I'm the devil who loves you," he murmured softly, folding her willingly into his embrace.

There. He'd said it—he loved her. Although you couldn't tell by looking at her, her heart was bounding crazily inside her chest, but the desire to gloat didn't come forward as she anticipated. Frankly, she'd won. She'd brought David Rossi to his knees.

Or maybe he'd won...because she was kneeling right down there beside him.

She snuggled next to him and sighed happily. "That you are, David... That you are."

* * *

After lunch, JJ and Aaron returned to the Quantico campus to finish their CPR training. It was being held in one of the basement rooms, which was a classroom with desks and chairs and a blackboard, rather like grade school. This teacher was quite a bit like her grade school teachers—ancient, rather dry, and non-animated. Mrs. Patrick seemed to drone and drone, the same facts and procedures. It had never seemed to be such an endless class before, but today, it was lasting forever.

At least there was a comedic content to the class. Morgan and Reid were in the class with them. Derek was sitting behind Spencer, kicking under his chair to rile him up. Reid obviously didn't want to give Morgan the satisfaction of turning around to show it bugged him, but the young man was positively rigid in his chair. Poor Spence... Someday, he needed to turn and sock Morgan when he least expected it.

Aaron didn't seem to mind the class as much as she did. He was sitting next to her, paying attention to the instructor, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle. She couldn't help but stare at those legs of his, encased in perfect-fitting stonewashed denim. Lord, he had beautiful legs. They were wasted in the suits he wore every day at the BAU. She felt a touch of heat stir in her body as she studied him; he could model those thighs for an artist.

JJ had the sensation she was being watched, so she looked up at Aaron. He flashed a dimple at her, a knowing grin that told her she'd been caught red-handed ogling him. Immediately, she felt her face heat with a scarlet blush, and his smile increased as he winked at her.

JJ turned her gaze forward, but she was smiling, too. The lecture was still the furthest thing from her mind.

Moments later, a note appeared on her desk from Hotch.

_May I walk you to your car after class? Circle Yes or No_

The note was so cute, it made her giggle, which caused the instructor to look her way.

"Is there something _amusing_ about the Heimlich Maneuver, Agent Jareau?" the woman asked, glaring down her long, hooked nose with disdain.

"No, ma'am," JJ answered guiltily.

Morgan and Reid were smirking over at her—Spencer a bit more sympathetic, but smirking nonetheless—after having been caught earlier themselves for their own outbursts. She'd find a way to get even with them, sooner or later.

"Everyone, please practice the Heimlich on each other," she said. "First one partner, and then the other."

Morgan and Reid were the first two standing. "Come on, kid. Pretend you're choking."

"Morgan, if you make me barf, I will kill you," Reid warned, obviously—and sadly—serious.

Derek looked chagrined. "Hey, man! That wasn't my fault. How was I to know last year that you'd had three bagels and extra coffee for breakfast?"

"I like carbs!" Reid growled defensively.

"Sad, aren't they?" Hotch said, standing by her side.

She snickered. "Very."

"Are you ready?" he asked, moving behind her.

She nodded and made the universal choking sign with her hands at her throat. A second later, she felt Aaron's big, warm body behind her as he looped his arms around her waist. He placed one fist in the center of her abdomen and the other on top and simply held her against his chest.

JJ closed her eyes as a wash of sensation fluttered over her. He smelled so good, like delicious, clean male and a little bit of spice that was in their lunch. It was intoxicating and overwhelming, the feel of his body—so much larger than hers—cradling and protecting hers.

"Is that okay?" he murmured, the low rumble of his voice stroking over her like napped velvet.

"A-A little higher," she said, her voice a touch husky. To emphasize what she meant, she ran her hands down his strong forearms, the crisp hairs tickling her palms, until she reached his wrists. She lifted his hands to the right spot on her abdomen, and her nipples sprung into alertness in futile hope of her moving his hands even higher.

She felt his breath against the part of her hair, a hot waft that burned like a back draft on her sensitive skin. "Right there?"

She nodded. She couldn't answer verbally.

He continued to hold her thus. "I'm sorry I got you in trouble with the teacher," he apologized softly.

"That's okay," she whispered when she managed to get her voice back.

"You didn't answer the note," he said, his tone hopeful and somewhat husky, too.

She turned in his arms. "I'm circling _yes_."

He liked that—both of his dimples flashed in his cheeks. "I believe it's your turn to demonstrate the maneuver," he said, but he didn't release his hands from her waist. He chuckled. "I'm having a hard time letting you go."

She shot him her smile. "The faster we complete this, the faster we can leave."

Aaron released her quickly after that.


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! I hope you all enjoy this chapter!...

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Dave held Erin in his arms. She was such a soft, small bundle—delicate, so different from how fierce her attitude usually was. There as nothing fierce about her at the moment. Her head was nestled under his chin, the silky strands of her ash blonde hair tangling in his prickly goatee. She had a sweetly innocent scent, too, clean and unpretentious, no perfumes or heavy fragrances. Erin was simply straightforward, no-nonsense loveliness.

He was stroking her idly on the back with his hand, his roughly calloused fingers catching slightly on the satin and lace. He couldn't discern what was smoother or silkier: her thick, wheat blonde hair that cascaded down her back, or the material of her camisole top. She felt so good and so right in his arms. She always had, even when she would open her mouth and rip him apart with her razor-sharp words. Ironically, Rossi recognized she still could do that at any given moment, and it was part of what he adored about her.

He would never be bored, that was for damn sure.

What was just as certain was his desire for her. Even after all the fighting and tears, he was still aroused. He had been since the moment he'd picked her up nearly two hours ago. At his age, most men wanting erections lasting that long required the help of a little blue pill. He'd never needed to use that—_Grazie a Dio!—_and he had a feeling as long as he was with her, he never would.

In fact, as he stood there holding her in her slinky underwear, he realized something that he hadn't done.

"Erin," he drawled in question.

She startled a little bit in his arms. It didn't surprise him; his voice was the first thing to ring out in the quiet little dressing room in many minutes. They'd stood there absorbing each other's warmth without haste. It was as if time had stood still.

She leaned back just slightly, her fine blonde brows drawn down in question. "Yes?"

He avoided smirking, even though her tone was just slightly suspicious. Trust between them was a fragile thing that would always need nourishing. "We're official now, aren't we?"

A look of amusement passed over her face. "I would say so."

"Maybe not," he said.

Her suspicious frown now included narrowed blue eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

"I think we need a formality," he said, still teasing her, even though she was in the dark somewhat still. Erin needed to be teased, and often. It was good for her.

"A formality?"

"Mmm hmm," he said. "Something to seal the deal."

"What do you suggest?" she asked archly. "A blood contract?"

Dave did laugh that time. She'd hinted at his shady past for years now, and to finally call it what it had been was simply priceless.

"No, _cara_," he said, bringing his hand up behind her neck. "I was thinking something else highly Italian..."

Understanding lit her eyes—she was one of the fastest thinking women he knew—and she moved even closer. "And that is...?"

"_Un bacio_." He gave her a slow smile that was meant to promise her much and said, "Let me show you."

Dave drew her closer with both hands and then lowered his head, brushing his lips against hers. It was soft and sweet and delicate, like she was at that moment. It was an innocent exploration, an almost holy, nearly chaste kiss meant to show great affection.

It was also one tiny speck of the kiss he intended on giving her. After all, _holy_ and _chaste_ were not words to describe what was between him and Erin.

Like the pirate he was, he took her mouth a moment later, all that sweetness and fire she had building up. She gave a slight gasp of surprise, and then a moan of acquiescence came, along with her fingers threading in his thick hair.

"Yes," she whispered against his mouth as she drew him down for more plundering, a pirate queen of her own right. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, and she suckled on it.

The fire in Dave's body surged, and he found himself moaning as his blood thrummed wickedly, scorching him from the inside out. This was growing out of control, rapidly. He thrust his tongue again and reached for her panties, wanting to feel the dual wetness—

"Excuse me?" Brekka the salesgirl said. "Is everything okay in there?"

They pulled apart with the words. Dave couldn't speak. He simply watched her, puffy, kiss-bruised lips and tangled hair, and a lump of lust the size of a grapefruit formed in his throat.

"We're—" Erin paused to cough a little at the raspy, husky sound of her voice. "We're fine. We'll be out shortly."

"Okay, ma'am," the girl said, a touch of humor in her words. "Thank you, ma'am."

A moment later, Brekka's laughter was distant, but there.

Erin groaned. "How can I go out there?"

Dave touched her chin. "With your head up and proud, Erin."

She scoffed. "Because I was making out with you?"

"No," he said, reaching a hand up to brush back stray silky tendrils from her face. "Proud because you're the most desirable woman in that store—real or mannequin."

She smiled at him. "You really can be sweet sometimes."

He grinned back. "I just want to get you in the sack."

She rolled her eyes and swatted at him, but she was smiling as she opened the door. "Get out so I can get dressed."

Ah! He was proud of her, recognizing his tease. He kissed her softly again and then made his way out to the waiting area. He smiled to himself; this thing between them was going to be damned good!

* * *

As he'd promised, Hotch was walking JJ to her car. Although he'd been somewhat worried about dating a subordinate, a resounding thought went through his logical mind, over and over—they were a good pair. Her personality and his meshed well, and they had similar moral values and backgrounds. Hotch couldn't help but notice that even their steps were evenly matched. They were a good pair.

The less logical side of his mind noticed her shining blonde hair that he longed to touch and that she wore jeans and a T-shirt like no other woman on Earth. Outlining her curves to perfection, she made the mundane look sexy. Even Kevlar looked good on her. He wondered how she'd look in a bikini, or in a negligee, waiting for him with a seductive smile like she'd had in class—

Before his mind went too far in the gutter, he reigned himself in. Hotch did not appear, for all intents and purposes, to be a passionate man; however, he truly was. He was known for being in charge of his emotions and was labeled "stoic" by many people. That was a misnomer. He simply valued having personal control.

He glanced at JJ. Yes, he was definitely passionate.

Clearing his throat, he said, "Your plans for this weekend are...?"

"Henry has karate and tumbling on Saturday morning, and I have to visit a few friends on Sunday," she said softly as they walked amiably. "What are you plans?"

"Jack has a T-ball game on Saturday, but that should be over by seven," he hinted.

She smiled over at him, a touch of seductress in her look. "I could clear a spot..."

Hotch quirked a half-grin that she didn't see. She continued to look forward, walking with that cat-like smile on her face. He'd learned something new tonight; Jennifer Jareau was a definite tease.

As they approached her car, she turned to face him, and he arched a brow at her. "_Could_ clear a spot...or _would_ clear a spot?"

JJ leaned against her car. "That depends," she drawled, looking down at his chest and then slowly raising her sky blue eyes up to him. "What are we going to do?"

"I have a few ideas," he began.

"Such as?"

He smiled at the eagerness in her voice. The market on teasing was not cornered by her...

"I was thinking perhaps dinner at Chez Daniel," he said.

Her pretty pink lips turned into an _O _of surprise. "Pretty snazzy…"

"Followed by a walk in the park, under the lights," he continued, stepping closer to her.

She bit her bottom lip to prevent smiling. "That might be worth clearing a schedule..."

"And then," he said softly, reaching for her hands and drawing her into his chest, "I thought we could do a little of this..."

Cupping her face in his large palms, Aaron lowered his head and began to kiss her. He kissed her slowly, luxuriously, as if he had all day and all night to just explore. He brushed his lips over hers, savoring them, the silky feel of her mouth, the slight catch of her breath as he did it again with more pressure.

He loved kissing; it was a forgotten art by most men, but not by him. It was the tempt, the tease that brought the most pleasure. Plus, he could prove easily: the market for teasing was not just cornered by her.

As he felt her fingertips sink into his shirt while she sank further into his kiss, he adjusted his angle and approached from a different side, testing and sampling her lips in every way. He licked her lip, and Aaron felt her breathy sigh as she opened her mouth for more of his kiss.

The heat started to rise between them as he dove into the sweetness, licking into her mouth. She was sweet and velvety, and her tongue toyed with his. He lowered his hands to her waist and drew her even closer to him, wanting to feel more of her lithe body. He wanted to push against her, but she was next to the chilly metal of her car. With a deft movement, he twisted with her so that he was leaning against her car and she was leaning on him, her sweet body lined up with his.

They kissed and kissed, entwined around each other, drinking and drawing from their mouths with equal fervor. When he finally broke the kiss, he heard her whisper, "Wow... Lightening."

Hotch raised his head and looked into her passion-glazed eyes. "What was that?"

The corners of her mouth lifted the slightest bit, and then she began to grin. "Nothing."

He smiled back at her and arched a brow. "How does that sound?"

"I'm _pretty sure_ I can open a slot in my schedule," she said, winking at him.

"That is satisfactory," he replied, but internally, he was turning cartwheels.

Opening her car door, she climbed in, and then he shut it. Still grinning, she said, "See you tomorrow, Aaron."

"Goodnight, JJ," he replied, and she sped away.

Hotch was still smiling, too, as he tossed his keys in the air and caught them before heading to his car to pick up Jack from his Aunt Jessica's.


	12. Chapter 12

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews... I can't believe there's only one chapter left. I'm gonna miss these guys! :)

* * *

**Chapter 12**

After making it home, Hotch received a report from Jessica about how Jack was doing.

"He wanted to stay up for you, but I talked him into sleeping," she said with a grin.

He gave a half smile to his sister-in-law. "That couldn't have been easy."

"It wasn't. But—" she paused for a second "—enough of that. How was your date?"

Aaron could feel his cheeks heating just the slightest amount. There was something disconcerting about Haley's sister asking him about his love life. He knew she looked at him like a big brother and wished the best for him, but...

"It was good," he said with a nod.

Jessica gave him a sidelong look of skepticism. "Just good? That moony smile you've been wearing since you stepped in the door says differently."

He sighed. He knew better than to fight with a wise woman. "It was very good."

Jessica beamed. "Wonderful!"

He rumbled with soft laughter. "Are you sure you're not a profiler?"

Jess blew on her nails and then buffed them on her shirt. "I learned from the best."

"You're a sweet woman, Jessica."

She smiled. "I know."

He chuckled. "Good night, Jess. Thanks...and remind me tomorrow to hire you for my team."

Her departing giggle made him smile. Jessica had been right; he couldn't remove the smile from his face. He felt too good to stop.

After picking up a toy or two, he started up the stairs. He thought he'd check in on his son, tuck him in, and give him a kiss. It was a ritual of his. He knew that Jack didn't see that he was there—he took pains to make sure he didn't wake his son—but he was sure Jack could feel his presence and his love.

Placing the toys down, he crept silently to the side of the bed and leaned down to straighten the comforter that was wrinkled. When he tucked the blanket under Jack's chin, he was surprised when his son's eyes flew open.

"Hi, Daddy."

Hotch arched a brow at his son. "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

Jack shrunk down just a bit under the covers. "Maybe..."

He held down the laughter he was feeling and gave a mock stern look. "Is that the truth?"

Jack nodded quickly and then explained, "Aunt Jess wanted me to go to bed, but I wanted to see you. I thought if I went to bed and stayed in there, then I could see you when you came in, but I was still in bed like Aunt Jess said I should be."

Hotch brushed an errant lock of hair that fell over Jack's forehead. He had to remind Jessica to be more specific in her commands with his overly bright son. "I can't fault that logic."

"You look happy, Daddy. Did you have fun with JJ?" he asked.

"I did."

A short nod signaled his son's agreement. "Good. I like JJ. She's nice."

"I'm glad."

A thoughtful look crossed Jack's face. "This could be the start of something good."

Hotch fought a chuckle. "I think so, too," he agreed. Leaning down, he kissed his son's forehead. "Now go to sleep."

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love you, too, son."

* * *

Where JJ and Hotch had prior commitments and kids to worry about, Dave and Erin had no such qualms.

On leaving Victoria's Secret, Erin's favorite new store, they quickly determined that she would follow him to his home and spend the rest of the afternoon—and the rest of "training," according to David—at his villa. After one piping hot kiss in the parking lot, Erin had been stoked to do whatever he wished.

She smiled as she held the steering wheel of her upscale sedan. It was overwhelming to her, how much one swarthy, goateed man could come to mean to her in such a short period of time. The sun and moon set on him. Frankly, if she had seen someone else acting this way, nearly giddy with anticipation, she would've laughed at them.

But as she drove, questions started to pop into her mind. Was this moving too fast? Did they need some time to adjust to the change in their relationship? They'd been intimate many times before, but everything was different now. This was the first real relationship she'd had in eons, and Erin did not do relationships well.

In short, she didn't want to blow this.

All too soon, she was at David's doorstep, pulling in behind his SUV. He needed a truck; it was more function than form. Dave was a sportsman who hunted and fished. He owned a cabin up north. She'd never been there—they'd been mortal enemies, what reason would she have to go?—but she knew he frequented the spot as often as possible.

He stepped out of the big vehicle and onto his concrete driveway and began walking to her. She was still holding onto the steering wheel when he approached the car.

Opening her door, he looked in and quirked a brow. "Coming inside?"

"I—"

"Of course you are," he said, taking her hand from the wheel and "helping" her to stand.

As he shut her door, she began to sputter. "David, I don't know if this is such a good—"

Before she could protest any more, his hands were cupping her skull and his mouth was on hers. His warm body against hers felt good as she was sandwiched between him and the cold metal of the car. The kiss he gave her was possessive, commanding, sensual. In essence, it was very David-like in function and form, and she found herself melting against him as she always did.

As David ended the kiss, he drew her body against his. He looked down at her, his hot, espresso eyes melting her icy blue ones. "Sweetheart, this is definitely a good idea."

She nodded. She wanted this man, and she wanted him badly. Why prolong the torture any more than they already had?

David took her hand and led her up the pathway to the door of his elegant house. After inserting the key and opening the door, he paused for a moment and smiled at her. "I almost feel like I should be carrying you over the threshold."

She scoffed. "That's pushing it, don't you think?"

His response was succinct. "No."

Although her heart flipped, her response was mild. "There's no need to be hasty."

He smirked. "I don't consider it to be hasty. I consider it to be proactive."

"That's idiotic."

"Why is that? We're perfect for each other..." His lips quirked. "Besides, we're not getting any younger."

Only Dave would season something romantic with an insult! She arched a brow. "Is this why you have a three failed marriages under your belt? Because of rash decisions?"

Both of his brows rose. "Rash decisions?"

_Of all the pigheaded, blind, __idiotic—_

Erin growled to herself. Just because she loved him didn't mean he couldn't get her goat. She raised her chin, ready for a fight. "Yes. You have a history of rash decisions."

Dave put his hands on his lean hips. "Oh, I do, hmmm?"

With hauteur, she raised her chin even more. "Yes. Very rash. Running about, willy nilly from woman to woman—"

"Erin, the only 'rash' you have to worry about it a beard rash in your tender areas."

She gasped. "David, I—"

He effectively silenced her by picking her up and carrying her through the door.


	13. Chapter 13

_AN: We've reached the end of another story. A warm thank you to everyone who read this story, made it a favorite, and left a review. You make my day! Lots of love, Kricket_

* * *

**Chapter 13**

_One year later._..

Jack Hotchner stood in front of a mirror, attempting to knot his tie. It should've been easy; he'd seen his dad do it a million zillion times before. He was having no luck. In fact, he was concentrating so hard, his tongue was out and he was nearly sweating.

"I thought you could do it," Henry LaMontagne said, lying in the middle of Jack's bed, his head propped up on his elbows with his hands under his chin.

Frustrated, Jack turned and glared at Henry. "I can do it! This dumb tie is just...tricky." He went back to his tie, trying to get it right.

"My momma tied my tie. She'd tie yours, too," Henry said helpfully.

Jack tugged on the chunky, awkward knot around his neck. "That's because you're still a baby."

"That's not true," Henry said, sitting up and pouting. "I'm not a baby."

"Only babies still have their moms tie their ties," Jack argued.

"How about stepmothers-to-be?" JJ asked, stepping into the room to end the rather cute quarrel she had been hearing before it escalated. This was a common occurrence, now that they all shared the same house. There was a lot of roughhousing with two boys, and it was wonderful.

A hand went to her flat stomach. She wondered if they were going to be adding another boy to the mix?

Getting back to the subject at hand, she smiled at Jack first and his lopsided tie, and then at Henry, who bounced off the bed to hug her. She hugged him back and then asked Jack, "Does that work?"

Jack tilted his head to the side, as if he were considering what she had to say. When he was deep in thought, he was a carbon copy of Aaron. Over the past year, she'd grown to love the little boy as much as her own son. After two moments of thought, he shook his head. "Sorry, JJ, but I think that's still a baby thing."

"Why is that?" she asked, leaning down to tuck Henry's shirt in.

Jack puffed his chest out. "Real men tie their own ties."

"Oh, I don't know about that..."

The warm, rich, gravel-on-velvet voice of Aaron made her smile before she even saw him. He looked so handsome and dapper in a perfect, dark suit. He'd shaved again this afternoon for the evening wedding, so his sculpted jaw was crisp and clean of stubble, and his hair was brushed back, accentuating his fine cheekbones. Truly, he was going to make a spectacular best man.

"Why's that, Dad?" Jack asked, confused. "You always tie your own tie."

Hotch smiled warmly at his son. "Not always. JJ helped me this morning."

Jack blinked in surprise. "She did? But tying a tie is easy for you. Why would you do that?"

Aaron wrapped his arms around her and gave her a squeeze. "Because sometimes it's nice to have some help."

"Even for the small things?" JJ asked, looping her arms around his neck.

He kissed her lips softly. "Especially for the small things."

Jack and Henry were giggling, their faces pink, as Henry said, "They're kissing again!"

Hotch and JJ broke apart with a wistful look "I suppose we'd better go, or we'll be late for pictures."

JJ touched Aaron's cheek lovingly. "I'll take Henry to the car."

Hotch stood behind his son and untied the knotted mess at his neck. He then raised Jack's hands to his tie and placed both hands on Jack's small but strong shoulders. "Okay...now remember. It's a rhyme. Over, around, up, and then down..."

* * *

Erin stared at herself in the mirror. In a way, she was paying homage to her former self. For the past twenty years, she'd been Erin Strauss, career woman and divorcee. But when she looked in the mirror now, she didn't see the same woman. No, the silk stocking-wearing woman in the mirror was a far cry from the no-nonsense, scratchy nylon-wearing Erin Strauss that she'd been. This Erin glowed with love and happiness and satisfaction, even though the source of that satisfaction still drove her crazy half of the time.

Maybe even three quarters of the time.

A bubble of laughter that seemed to come from her soul escaped her, and she shook her head slowly. "What have I gotten myself into?"

Marriage between herself and David Rossi was not going to be a peaceful or tranquil thing. They would most likely fight like cats and dogs as always and solve the arguments somewhere between the front door and the bed. She'd teased him about making rash decisions; now she was making an illogical one of her own. Nearing her golden years, she should've chosen a companion who thought like her and would sit on the front porch with her, rocking for the rest of their years.

Instead, she'd chosen a man she had positively lurid passion with. No rocking for them anywhere besides bed...or other areas. Dave would barely skid into heaven after spitting in the devil's eye, and she'd be on the back of his motorcycle, along for the ride.

And she wouldn't have it any other way.

A knock on the door sounded, and she turned to face the door.

"Oh, you look beautiful, ma'am," Penelope Garcia said, a pleasant blush covering her cheeks. She was reception and coordination for this evening's event. All of the BAU team had a job—Agents Morgan and Reid were ushers, and Agent Jareau was a reader. They were, after all, David's family...and hers, too. Slowly but surely.

She stood and walked to the door. "Thank you, Penelope."

Ms. Garcia had always had a far flashier sense of style than she had, but the compliment was obviously sincere, and Penelope was doing a bang-up job with the coordination.

Penelope folded her hands. "They're waiting, ma'am."

Erin had learned a long time ago to stop asking Penelope to call her Erin. They'd gone on an atrocious double date with Garcia and Morgan, and the entire time, Penelope snapped to high alert. Even Morgan, with his cooing and coddling, couldn't get her to settle down.

As Erin stepped into the church foyer, she smoothed her satin dress yet again. The color was a rich, buttery cream that looked almost gold in the low lighting of the church. It shimmered when she walked and made her hair and skin look perfect.

"Ma'am, I'm going to tell them we're ready," Penelope said.

Erin nodded. She looked down the hallway as the door opened, and she saw the small crowd of people assembled. Mostly friends, family, and loved ones were there in support.

"Gorgeous." David said, walking up to her. "Absolutely stunning."

"You're not supposed to see me before the wedding."

He tugged her into his arms. "I don't care. You're so beautiful; it's worth it."

She blushed happily, but gave him an arch look. "There would've been no wait if we'd married the way I wanted to at the Justice of the Peace."

"Hell, no," he swore.

"Don't blaspheme in church."

He smiled at her. "This coming from the woman who didn't want this big wedding..."

"I didn't," she said, raising her chin.

"Yes, you did," he argued.

"I did not."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I wanted it. There, are you happy?"

She glared at him. "Why did you want this? You've been married three times before—you even had a big wedding in the past."

"Ah, but I didn't have you to show off then," he said with such warmth and sincerity, any fight she had in her melted away.

"Oh, David," she purred happily, and they kissed before the ceremony started.

They parted, and he headed toward the door, but before he started toward the altar, he said, "Besides, you _hadn't_ had a big wedding...and _extravaganza _is an Italian word..."

"David Rossi, you—" she began, but he passed through the door before she finished. So she paused, picked up her bouquet, smiled, and finished her sentence herself: "—wonderful man."

Still smiling, she stepped through the doors and began her walk toward her happily—but contentiously—ever after.

_The end_


End file.
